Grand Slam Communication
We got the new car registered.
The letters are RCK.
I told Bob that it’s a shame his name isn’t Rick.
My car could have been named after him.
Bob laughed and told me to count my blessings.
At least it doesn’t start with a D.
Or a C.
Or an F.
Gee, thanks, Bob, thanks for nothing.
Why did you rain on my new-car parade?
Rick would never say a thing like that!
I had so many questions.
In the bread aisle at Kroger was a very tall, heavyset woman.
In a cow costume.
Complete with horns, udders, and a tail.
Incongruously, she was also wearing bear-claw slippers.
Topping off the ensemble, she was sporting a flowery fanny pack.
How did she get that thing buckled up around the cow suit?
Wow.
I had so many questions.
But I hesitated to strike up a conversation.
What do you say to a gigantic cow-bear woman?
I wondered if I could surreptitiously take her picture.
But again, I hesitated.
She was as freakishly large as I am freakishly small.
She could take me out with one hoof.
Or paw.
Whatever.
I had so many questions.
And now I’ll never know the answers.
My grocery store has changed the layout.
The holidays are upon us, and I can’t find a thing that I need.
It totally throws me off.
The Kroger near me is enormous.
I have had to criss-cross the vast expanse of this place several times because they moved the sour cream.
This is, of course, why they do it.
They want to keep the customers in the store longer.
I’m so mad that I’m tempted to boycott.
But I can’t because I need food.